


The Gray Cloud

by lirin



Category: Kong: Skull Island (2017)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-07 05:25:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11052243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lirin/pseuds/lirin
Summary: Kong knew that he was now the island's only protector.





	The Gray Cloud

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sweetcarolanne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetcarolanne/gifts).



The monster had come up from underground at the rainiest time of the year. The lakes had been full when Whaea had noticed the signs of an incursion from the caverns. The rain had been pouring heavily from the sky when she and Matua had gone to battle the monster. And the water had splashed high when Kong had run away, after their failure.

Kong remembered watching from a distant rock as the monster had prowled over their bodies. He had been terribly afraid of the monster, for it had left the strongest creatures he knew—the creatures he loved most—bloodied and unmoving in the wasteland. Yet he had known he must not be afraid, for he was now the island’s only protector.

The monster had retreated eventually, sinking back into the earth, but its absence would not bring Whaea and Matua back. Kong patrolled the island as its new king, keeping careful watch for the return of the monster, and for any other danger that could threaten his island.

The moon had now waxed and waned several times since then, and the monster had not reappeared. The weather had become drier. Kong’s favorite pond barely covered his feet, and even if he jumped up and down as hard as he could, the splashes came no higher than his knees.

That was when a new danger came to the island.

It appeared as a gray cloud on the horizon, near the home of the little people. Kong did not know at first that it was something bad. He only knew that it was something different, and new, and that as king of the island it was his duty to investigate.

The little people’s village was surrounded by walls and mountains to keep them safe from the larger creatures of the island, who were much more dangerous to the soft and breakable little people than they were to Kong. The walls and mountains were not large enough to keep Kong out, though. The surroundings were rarely so high that Kong couldn’t see over them, and in some places they dipped low enough that he could climb over. Kong clambered through a dense thicket and headed toward his favorite of these access points, a mountain saddle close to the village.

As he got closer, Kong could see that the dark gray cloud was not only near the village, it was coming from the village itself. At the places where it touched the ground, the gray gave way to orange and red, spurts of fire that lit the village and spread from one hut to another. The little people were running about busily at the edge of the fire. They stood in long lines between the river and the burning huts, and threw little specks of water on the flames. Still the fire grew, unhampered by their efforts. More than a handful of the huts were now alight.

The people needed huts and shelter to live in! They could not sleep on a grassy mountainside or curl up in the swampy edges of a lake. It was Kong’s duty to protect them, and so he started forward. But it was also Kong’s duty not to hurt the people, and so he moved without haste. If he interfered too urgently, some of the people might be damaged. Cautiously, he climbed the last part of the mountain and stepped over the steepest part of the saddle, the part the people had dug away at until it was too steep for any of the island’s other creatures to climb.

Now standing in the little home of the tiny people, Kong knew that he must be careful, or he could destroy their village as utterly as the fire would. He advanced with small steps, watching the ground for any sign of movement. Ahead of him, the people anticipated his approach and moved out of his way with reverence, as was only fitting for their king.

Kong observed the burning huts carefully. Water was what they needed. What the little people’s little buckets could not do, Kong could. Reaching out to the river, he scooped up a handful of water and poured it on the flames.

The fire hissed and guttered as the water landed on it. A second, white, cloud rose to join the dark one in the sky. But the fire did not cease. It faded for a few moments, then sprang up as strong as before. Another handful, and the same thing happened. Too much water was falling uselessly between the river and the village, trickling from Kong’s fingers and from the sides of his palm. Too little remained to fight the fire. Size alone did not make Kong king enough to fight this fire. He would need wisdom as well. Whaea and Matua would have known how to fight this fire. What would they have done?

The flames were still spreading; whatever Kong did would need to be done soon or the entire village would be alight. The fire could not spread if the huts were not touching, he thought. He reached out to the village and picked up one of the fiery huts that was closest to the part of the village that was not yet alight. He brought it close to his face, examined the fire—and realized what he needed to do. He had failed to bring the water to the huts, but he could bring the huts to the water. Still grasping the hut gently between his thumb and forefingers, he reached out and set it in the river.

There was a burst of white cloud, then nothing. The red flames were gone. Quickly, Kong seized one hut after another, and set them all in the river. Soon, half of the village’s huts had been relocated to the river, and none of them were on fire.

Kong inspected his handiwork. The fire was out. He was pleased. Only one task remained. Picking the huts back up one by one, he lifted them out of the river and set them in the area where they had stood before. The huts looked very wet and a bit broken, and he couldn’t remember exactly where they had been, but the little people would be able to fix that. They were tiny, but they were not helpless.

And neither was Kong. He had saved the people, just as Whaea and Matua would have done. He hoped they would have been proud. Climbing back over the saddle of the mountain, he strode away from the home of the little people. If he hurried, he could have a wash in his favorite pond before sundown.

**Author's Note:**

> The names for Kong's parents are Māori, since the name of the tribe (Iwi) seems to be derived from that language.


End file.
